


What I Want and What I Need

by i_will_go_down_with_the_ships



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, F/F, F/M, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 20:16:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19325335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_will_go_down_with_the_ships/pseuds/i_will_go_down_with_the_ships
Summary: Betty's mom is mentally ill, so she takes care of her younger siblings. She's quiet, studious and hardworking because saving tips from Pop's is the only way she's getting her brother and sister the fuck away from Alice. The last thing she needs is a distraction. In comes Jughead Jones who, is definitely a distraction. Will Betty choose love and loyalty or family and getting out.WARNING: CRUDE AND GRAPHIC INNER MONOLOGUE ON MENTAL ILLNESS, OTHER PEOPLE, AND LIKE EVERYTHINGBASICALLY BETTY HAS A POTTY MOUTH AND A GENERAL DISTASTE FOR HER MOTHER AND MOST PEOPLE #SORRY NOT SORRY





	What I Want and What I Need

**Author's Note:**

> All depictions of Mental Illness (Bipolar Disorder) is from my personal experience with my mother. A lot of what I put in here is what happened to me as a child or what I have seen. Please do not take offense to anything because I do NOT feel this way about mentally ill people. My thoughts at the time of these things happening mirror Betty's and it comes from a genuine place in order for me to realistically tell this story and convey Betty's frustrations at her mother and life.

When I was eight, my mom went crazy. I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of my mother rummaging through the kitchen, opening every cabinet up to look for something. Looking back now I wonder what she was searching for.

“It’s dirty I have to clean, your dad will be back soon.”

My dad had left three months ago, straight into the arms of Penelope Blossom. Leaving behind a shell of Alice Cooper and three kids struggling to make sense of the aftermath.

From then on, I remember small things about my mother’s illness. Locking herself in the bathroom with my brother, Charles, hearing her crying, lowly under his wails. I remember her not leaving her bed for weeks on end. I remember she smelt really bad, with her hair matted together and stuck to her face, clinging to her scalp in a way that reminded me of tentacles attaching itself to its prey. Trapping it before going in for the kill.

One day my mom’s friend, Hermione rushed over and I heard my mother and her arguing about something. I caught the tail end of their conversation.

“...and you need help!”

“No, I don’t! Mind your fucking business! I’m fine!”

“You know I can’t do that, Alice. I have to think about your kids.”

“Don’t take them! You can’t just take them from me,” as she said this, my mother started to grab Hermione, desperately clawing at her arm trying to physically will her into submission.

Then I saw the police car and ambulance pullup through the window in the living room. I heard Charles and Polly crying, barely two years old. I led them to their room and started playing with them, hoping they would ignore our mother’s screaming and the shattering of glass. When I knew that my mother’s pleas and threats wouldn’t be cancelled out so easily I put a movie on and turned the TV up as loud as it would go, holding the twins while they cried and watched Aladdin. 

I was eight when my mother went crazy and I moved in with Hiram and Hermione Lodge and their daughter, Veronica for nine months. They were nice, Hermione being a generally friendly person and Hiram being outwardly charming. Veronica and I got along great, she showed me her barbies and I showed her my Nancy Drew book. We were, in so many ways, polar opposites that it actually made our friendship stronger and unique.

For nine months my life was normal, the twins and I went to school and did our homework. I never worried about why my dad was choking my mom or why mommy was wandering the streets with no clothes on. I didn’t have to scrounge for food for my siblings or myself and I didn’t have a worry in the world for nine months. I was happy.

When my mom finally returned she acted as if nothing had happened. I was used to it from her, it was normal, familiar. It brought me comfort the way the crescents on my palms did. A dull ache from something that should hurt but had been a constant for so long it felt like coming home. We moved back in with mom, we continued to go to school and mom hid her crazy a little better.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eight Years Later…

 

In hindsight I know I shouldn’t say my mom went crazy but at eight years old my understanding of my mother was limited. Now I say-to myself at least because I don’t tell anyone what actually is going on-she’s sick, she’s tired, she’s whatever I need to say to make me feel better about my situation. One more year. Then I could legally move out and take the twins. 

I smile as I think of Polly and Charles-they were ten now and so smart. I tried to shield them as much as I could but they see past everything. I knew that they needed to get out of that house before mom destroyed them too. 

 

As I started down the hall to their rooms I peek into my mom’s bedroom. She’s still sleeping and she probably will be for awhile. She came down from a manic episode, which entailed purchasing a new flat screen for the twins-”Because they deserve it, Lizzie!” and me walking in on her fucking a random guy on the kitchen counter at four in morning. 

Said guy tried to go in my room because my sick mother didn’t know to see guests out after. He got as far as the door before I pulled my pocket knife out-because these kinds of things happen a lot- to show him exactly where the door is and where my knife would be if he wasn’t out of it in the next thirty seconds.

Times like those make me hate her, I hate her so much it feels like I can’t breathe. Ii feels like I’m starting to float away and the only way to bring me back to earth and away from the red tinged atmosphere and buzzing is to grind my nails into the skin of my palms until they bleed. It feels good, I feel something other than hate and I can breathe and I’m not squeezing those hands around my mother’s neck like I really want to. The last thing I need to do is go to prison and leave the twins in the care of her.

I get the twins to the bus stop without too much of a fight. We are silently waiting for our bus to pull up when Veronica Lodge, in the passenger seat of Archie Andrews’ car stops by the curb.

“Hey! Do you guys need a ride?” Veronica, who I haven’t spoken to in years, asks like we’re the best of fucking friends. If there’s two things I have learned in my short sixteen years it’s that one, I don’t need anyone but the twins and two, I don’t need fucking charity. Especially from Veronica fucking Lodge.

“No thank you,” I say at the same time Charles exclaims his fascination for Archie’s car. It’s a nice car. I hate to admit it but I used to love working on cars with my dad and I still love to change the oil and spark plugs in my mom’s Volkswagen. But I definitely wouldn’t voice this out loud or willingly be in the same car as them.

“Thanks! I just fixed it up with my dad!” Archie, clueless as ever, replies.

 

“We don’t need a ride, so you can leave.” I say, icily. Veronica knows why I give her the cold shoulder but she still has the fucking audacity to actually look hurt. Fucking bitch.

After the whole spiel of “Okay, let us know, if you ever want to! And “Miss you, B” it was quiet once again and I was thankful for it. The bus five minutes after they left, and dropped us off at our own schools. It was Monday, the first day of my junior year, so if my calculations are correct I have about 356 days or 72 Mondays left, give or take a few.

I get to homeroom right as the tardy bell rings and begin to listen to the monotony of Romeo and Juliet. Right as Romeo sees and apparently falls in love with Juliet, there is a knock on the door and a figure steps into the classroom. He definitely is not a Northside High student, if the jacket is anything to go one. He’s my age, wearing a black leather jacket with a snake on it (the biker gang on the other side of town), dark wash, blue jeans and placed atop dark waves is a beanie.

“Ah, another Southside student I assume?” Mr. Harris asks him. 

He nods his head and answers with, “I’m Jughead Jones,” que a few nervous giggles from the girls in heat and snickers from the territorial, insecure guys and that was the makeup of our high school. 

My face remained passive the entire time this was going on, not that my mind wasn’t ogling a little as well. He was handsome, in a cute way, not exactly traditional but handsome. He had a few moles spattering random parts of his pale skin and I imagined for second, where else moles could be found on his lean, tall frame. I pulled myself from those thoughts as he finally met my gaze and I saw how dark blue his eyes were, almost grey, but not quite. After a couple of seconds, I looked back down to my textbook, with a blush, covering my cheeks and ears.

Eventually Jughead was told to sit down and he ended up in the desk next to mine, I saw him continually glance my way but I ignored him, electing to actually pay attention because I knew if I chanced meeting his gaze, I would not be focused for the rest of class. When the bell rang and I was gathering up my belongings, he approached me.

“Hey, in case you weren’t paying attention to the theatrics, I’m Jughead.” he puts his hand out and I’m surprised by the gesture. People don’t generally talk to me unless they have to. They haven’t since my falling out with Veronica in eighth grade. It’s understandable, maybe if I was a normal person and I knew someone like me, I wouldn’t talk to them either. Nonetheless, I am me and Jughead Jones has just cast a line my way. Fuck it, I’ll bite.

“I’m Betty Cooper,” I respond as I hold out my hand, a small, polite smile, ghosting my lips. He smiles back warmly. I think I really like his smile.

“Can I walk you to your next class?” I’m a little hesitant, not really sure what his intentions were but he probably doesn’t know me as Bat-Shit Betty yet, so what’s the harm in being friendly with someone-especially a good-looking someone-while I can.

We took off down the hall, our conversation only taking off from there. The subject switches from the Kurt Vonnegut to talking about his just switching schools.

“Yeah, it’s definitely a bit of a culture shock. One day, I’m at school on the Southside and the next they’re bussing us up to Northside and closing down Southside High, altogether.”

“I bet, I can’t believe they closed down Southside High.” I respond quietly. I don’t talk much to people who aren’t Charles and Polly so I really hope I don’t sound disinterested or bland. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any friends so I really don’t want to mess it up.

“Me too, we’re all just trying to adju-” About that time, Jughead is interrupted by a petite, pink-haired girl jumping out of nowhere.

“Hey, Jug!”

“Hey, Toni. Betty, this is Toni. Toni, meet Betty.” 

Toni turns to me and smiles, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” I reply. I feel awkward, this much social interaction in such a small amount of time is a tad overwhelming so I decide to part ways. “I actually better get going, so I will see you guys later. It was nice meeting you both.”

“You should eat lunch with us?” the suggestion sounding more like an unsure question than anything.”I have B Lunch, by the way. So, I-I mean if you have the same lunch we could possibly converse more on Slaughterhouse Five or whatever you want.”

I honestly feel flattered. It’s nice for someone to actually want me to eat lunch with them but I have a History test right after my lunch period that I want to study more for.

“I actually can’t today,” his face begins to fall as the words leave my mouth, but perks up as I add, “but I’m free tomorrow,” It seriously takes everything in me to contain the shit eating grin.

I walk away, truly excited for school tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> So the knife bit was deviated from my own story a bit (I only ever pulled a knife on my stepfather and uncle) but the cleaning, manic episodes, depressive episodes, Alice being institutionalized, Betty's frustrations, etc. they are all true. It was very cathartic writing this and I hope you guys liked the first chapter. If I get enough positive feedback I will definitely continue this story.


End file.
